


My Kingdom Come

by acidtonguejenny



Series: Dragon Age Kinkmeme Fills [7]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Bath Sex, Dragon Age Kink Meme, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 17:47:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5752513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acidtonguejenny/pseuds/acidtonguejenny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: There's been a lack of Alistair-love lately and it makes this anon (and others) pull the sad-panda face. If you're so inclined dear author anons, treat those of us who crave it to some Alistair love! f!Warden showering her man in sexy, sexy affection!</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Kingdom Come

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/10371.html?thread=41803907#t41803907).

The second audience chamber was one of Alistair’s favorites. It was quiet, and empty, and it was usually a while before anyone thought to look for him there.

It was set up similarly to the throne room, but smaller and more intimate, and was usually warm, owing to the hearth in the far wall. Scarlet drapery hide foreboding stone walls and turned the color of the light that came through the tall, thin windows at his back to watery red. The throne was humble and rather plain; rather than adorned with precious metals and jewels, it was decorated only with lovingly carved scenes of legend and history, and was not raised on a dais. 

He also liked the cushion. It was plush and blue, and usually didn’t grow uncomfortable before he was allowed to hop up. 

Alistair sprawled happily across the throne—really, it was only a particularly elegant chair—with a book of court rules and a plate of pilfered cheeses. 

He’d thought he wouldn’t have to sneak snacks as King. He’d thought wrong.

Someone came in. He didn’t realize until the tiny draft hit him, and by then his visitor had moved behind him.

“What—“

“Boo,” said a familiar, deliciously female voice by his ear. 

“Rascal. When did you arrive back?” He moved to straighten, to drop his leg from its position over the throne’s arm, but a light touch to his chest stilled him.

“Not long, love. I came straight to where I thought you’d be.” The Warden tweaked his nose, perching on the little bit of cushion he’d left unoccupied with uncanny poise. She paused. “And when you weren’t in the kitchens, I came here.”

Alistair brandished his plate cheekily. “I beat you there.”

“You nob.” She said affectionately, taking a cube of an aged Orlesian kind he forgot the name of as it touched her mouth. She held it between her teeth and played with it for a moment before eating it.

“Are you Queen or are you a heathen?” He made an attempt to tease, but he was dry-mouthed and it was unconvincing. Alistair wished he wasn’t so affected by the sight of the Warden-Commander eating cheese, but, alas. He had the excellent excuse of abstinence to lean on, at least. She’d been away for so very long, after all.

“‘Queen of your Heart?’” She guessed, eyes dancing.

“…that was my punchline.” Alistair pouted. He jostled her, and she allowed herself to fall, laughing as they kissed. Alistair clutched her hip, his fingers spread wide, and groaned into her mouth. The Warden sighed.

“I’ve very much missed you, my King.” She said glumly, between kisses. “The road’s not the same without you.”

“Yes,” Alistair agreed blearily.

“I get so cold,” she breathed. “without you.”

They moved at the same time, Alistair to settle more firmly in place, the Warden to put a knee on the other side of him. Maker bless her, she’d come to him in simple leather armor rather than anything more complicated. She was hot through the cloth of her smalls; Alistair pressed two of his fingers flat along the plane of her sex and drew them forward, stroking her firmly as his thumb pressed her clit.

She jerked impatiently at his own laces and took his cock eagerly in hand. Rather than pulling him out into the brisk, castle air, she massaged him there, as her other hand tangled in his hair. Alistair made helpless appreciative noises as she pumped him through the tight ring of her fingers, stopping beneath his head to roughly thumb the weeping top, and delved into his mouth as if his Kingly tonsils were made of gold. 

All while riding his hand. He loved her quite a lot.

In short order they collapsed into a messy, panting puddle of humanity on the little throne, trembling with all the strength of the first orgasm after a long recess. Alistair, having allowed his unsupported head to drop back, found his neck protested its bent position, but as the Warden had just begun to mouth wet, post-coital kisses along his Adam’s apple, there was little he was willing to do to placate it. 

The Warden made a noise like a large, pleased cat as she stirred on his chest. 

“I like this.” She hummed, fingers playing with Alistair’s shirt. “Now, if my King would treat me to a bath?”

“Well,” Alistair began gustily.

“And a hard fuck.” The Warden leaned up to say. She licked his ear. 

Alistair may have gone a little cross-eyed. “Aiiyeh. Yes. Y-yes a lot. Bath now.”

He stood. The Warden slid off him bonelessly, retiring her laces with a tight, cheat of a knot, one that soldiers used to dress as quickly as possible and one that would have to be cut out, as it would never come untied. 

Alistair watched her do it, eyes and cheeks bright, as he secured his own trousers.

~ ~ ~

The audience chamber might be his third or fourth favorite room in the castle. The King’s bath, with its lascivious, sunken pool and jars of sweet scented things, would be his second. Though of course wherever a naked, soaped-up Warden-Commander may to be found was his favorite place in the world.

The Warden’s breasts bobbed in the bubble-strewn water, begging for his hands on them. He obliged, thumbing her nipples and licking up the light sheen of sweat the steaming water had raised on both of them.

The Warden purred, arching her back and, with a hand on his neck, directing his mouth to take over. Her movement pressed her breasts into his face, and her sex against his groin, which Alistair really couldn’t complain about. Sucking away happily, he rocked against her for a moment before reaching down to press himself into her.

She hissed at the stretch, and he slowed his thrust.

“Alistair,” She bit out throatily, nails pressing hard into his shoulders. “Alistair.”

“Yes, my dear?” He said, muffled against the soft flesh of her breast.

“Don’t you play games with me.” Snapped the Warden. “I don’t care if you are King, I’ll hold you down and—Ah!”

With a surge, Alistair heaved her out the water and onto the tile, and commenced with the hard fucking he’d promised.

The Warden moaned, rocking hard into each thrust. She anchored herself with knees pressed tight to his side. Alistair endeavored to help, holding her hips tightly to keep her from sliding across the smooth tile. 

“Ali—“ She gasped, mouth fallen open.

Breathing hard though his nose, pulsing pounding in his ears, Alistair yanked himself away and dropped back to his knees in the water. He breathed her name against her sex, and viciously kissed her clit. 

The Warden’s knees snapped up around his head, and her hands came down to fist in his hair.

“Yes.” She said, shuddering. “Do that, please—“

Alistair pushed two fingers into her, moving them quickly in and out as he sucked and lipped at her.

“Ali—Ali—Alistair.” The Warden panted. Her body tensed like a bow string, spine so curved her back lifted off the tile, and she pressed so hard against his face that his teeth hurt as she came with a cracked cry. She fell heavily back to the floor, her knees resting on his shoulders, her legs dangling down his back. He could feel dozens of tiny twitches going through her. 

Alistair beamed cheekily at her. He lifted himself out of the bath and hovered over her, water falling off of him in little streams and splattering on the tile. 

The Warden still breathed deeply, her breasts rising and falling in a mesmerizing tide. She was languid and warm and watching him through narrowed, glittering eyes. Alistair settled himself heavily over her, and found her sex relaxed, wet and welcoming when he dipped back in. 

The Warden hummed as his hips moved against her, worn but deeply content. Her fingers traced mindless patterns on his arms and chest, and she sucked blind kisses onto his shoulders when he curled over her.

“My King, my heart, my love.” She said softly as he turned his face into her hair, gasping. “Come on, Alistair, come on. My good boy, what a brilliant man you are, come on.”

He did with a quiet, hoarse cry that he muffled against her temple as his hips came to a stuttering halt.

Alistair rested some of his weight on her, breathing hard. The Warden continued to pet his sides in long, sleepy strokes, enjoying the pressure. He lay still for a long moment, until their hearts had finally begun to slow, before stirring with a groan. Moving as if his strings were too long, he dragged himself down her body, practically falling back into the water, to once again press his lips over her sex. The Warden laughed as he licked into her with tired, clumsy jabs.

“Enough,” she laughed. “Enough! To bed, Alistair, so we can sleep for a year.”

Alistair didn’t bother to communicate how agreeable he found this. He backed off with a noisy parting suck, and gave her a hand up. They stumbled to bed, giggling and leaning on one another.


End file.
